


Take Care of Yourself

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: It’s Monday.
 
Well, technically, now, it’s Tuesday. But this is the wrong day. How can Castiel be held responsible for keeping his blushes in check every day of the week now? And it does seem like this particular guest is staying later and later more often. It would make Castiel happy if it didn’t concern him so much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> haha sorry, i'm the worst with updating.  
> finally out of school though, so who knows, I might actually have time to update regularly at some point. man I hope I'm done with this before 2017 lol

APRIL 20TH   
_later on_

 

He wasn’t anticipating him. That’s Castiel’s excuse for blushing at the sound of Mr. Smith’s voice when he says hello. It’s nearing three in the morning, and Castiel is just settling into the stool he is allowed to sit on from two to four in the morning if no one is around. He was going to crack open the book Anna left him -- an anthology of poems that seemed quite promising, when he immediately smelled the leather and spice scent of _Mr. Smith_. 

 

It’s Monday.

 

Well, technically, now, it’s Tuesday. But this is the wrong day. How can Castiel be held responsible for keeping his blushes in check every day of the week now? And it does seem like this particular guest is staying later and later more often. It would make Castiel happy if it didn’t concern him so much. 

 

However, tonight… Well, it’s Monday. And honestly, Mr. Smith hadn’t come in late at all this week. In fact, Castiel hadn’t seen him in so long that he was beginning to forget the sight of him.

 

Ha. If only.

 

As it stands, Mr. Smith waltzes in with his sharp suit and briefcase. His suspenders (red, today) peek out from behind his jacket. They always look slightly snug on him, and Castiel finds himself wondering if there are red notches in Mr. Smith’s shoulders underneath the crisp white linen of his shirt. He’s already halfway through imagining a massage (coconut oil seems like it would mesh well with his deep scent) when Castiel is able to rein in his fantasies.

 

Right. There was no point in fantasizing about a man he could never have. He just needed a few reminders.

 

First of all, Mr. Smith is a very successful Alpha. Best in his field, though Castiel could never quite suss out what his ridiculously complicated title actually meant whenever he repeated it to him during their night time chats, Mr. Smith probably wanted nothing to do with a screw up like Cas. 

 

Second of all, Mr. Smith is an _Alpha_. And okay, sure, the world is a changing place, a progressive new era! Castiel had been told that many times, but usually in reply to his _interesting_ career choices, or after a raised eyebrow at an unmated couple nearby. Castiel isn’t a fool. He knows two Alphas are rarely a good match. 

 

Besides, De-- _Mr. Smith_ might not even be interested in a man, regardless of his designation. It’s nonsense to get so worked up over a complete stranger. And hadn’t Castiel _just_ been reprimanded for _having too much heart_? 

 

“Get a grip,” he mutters to himself, as the source of the lovely scent finally comes into view. 

 

“Heya, Cas!” Mr. Smith says. Castiel fights the smiles that threatens to break out at the warm voice. 

 

“Good evening, Mr. Smith,” he says, and he thinks he managed to keep the tone cool and professional. In fact, he’s convinced when Mr. Smith frowns and an ache begins to form in the pit of Castiel’s stomach.

 

“How are things? Long time no talk, eh?” Mr. Smith continues uncertainly, arm coming to rest on the counter.

 

“Yes, it seems we have both been quite busy. Everything is well, how have you been, sir?”

 

Mr. Smith frowns again, leaning forward, nostrils flaring. Castiel leans away subtly, lifting his chin. Scenting each other is definitely beyond the bounds of professionalism, and Castiel tries to feel offended rather than thrilled at the thinly veiled gesture on Mr. Smith’s part.

 

“I’ve been okay…” Mr. Smith is still frowning. It makes a small wrinkle appear between his eyebrows. Castiel hasn’t thought about kissing it at all.

 

“So,” Mr. Smith says after a beat of silence. Castiel looks up from his report. He is supposed to be filing the revenue reports, but he’s too busy pretending not to care about Mr. Smith’s confused expression.

 

“Anything I can help you with, sir?” Castiel replies. This time Mr. Smith’s scent turns sour with hurt and it takes everything in Castiel’s power not to react. He smells so good tonight. The usual scent of Alpha that makes Castiel’s nose itch in the mornings is almost completely gone, and a somewhat familiar odour is overpowering it. It’s making Castiel’s mouth water. He clears his throat to cover the sound of his loud swallowing, and to attempt concentration.

 

“Uh,” Mr. Smith says, mouth parting in surprise. God, his lips. Castiel refrains from sinking his teeth into his own just to imagine...

 

“Alright, no,” Mr. Smith says, louder. He straightens from where he was draped over the counter and adopts a neutral expression. Castiel avoids his curious gaze. 

 

It looks like Mr. Smith is going to walk away, and Castiel is torn between relief and regret, when suddenly the man whips around and stalks back up to the front desk.

 

“Cas,” he says quietly, trying again to catch Castiel’s eye. Castiel keeps his gaze trained on the unfinished reports.

 

“Cas.”

 

This time the voice is impatient, commanding. Castiel’s stare snaps up to Mr. Smith’s automatically, wide eyed. Mr. Smith’s eyes are soft, however. It catches him by surprise. 

 

Mr. Smith seems to debate for a moment, weight shifting in each foot. Castiel thinks he hears a soft whine, but it’s so faint he figures it’s wishful thinking.

 

“Just, uh,” Mr. Smith says, voice barely above a whisper. He looks down at his feet and Castiel ignores the urge to reach out a hand to lift his chin. Mr. Smith seems to compose himself though, and looks up at Castiel with a look of determination in his eye.

 

“If you need anything, I’m here, ok?” he says, eyes alight with a fierceness Castiel did not expect. When Castiel doesn’t answer, Mr. Smith leans in and reaches over the counter to lay his hand on Castiel’s.

 

“Just…” Mr. Smith rolls his eyes and lets go of Castiel’s hand. He scoffs. “Take care of yourself, little Alpha.”

 

And he turns away quickly, but not quickly enough to hide the red tinge at the top of his ears.

 

"Have a good night," Castiel says faintly. Mr. Smith is already in the elevator.

 

His gut roils in guilt, but it’s not enough to tamper the way his heart is racing. _Little Alpha._


End file.
